


Words Not Beauty

by MicNicSta



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Beards, F/M, Famous Zayn, M/M, Model Harry, Model Louis, Model Zayn, Publicity Stunts, The warnings are in the prologue and I've written spoilers in the notes if you want to skip, VERY MINIMAL CHEATING, it will be addressed at later time, larry - Freeform, side zouis, they're not graphic but I don't want anyone to read potentially triggering things, very minimal, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:00:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicNicSta/pseuds/MicNicSta
Summary: Model au. Zayn is the current leading model for Gucci, known for his looks and his habit of speaking in quotes.Liam is a man that stumbled into him somewhere along the way.Zayn is insecure and quiet and Liam just wants to see him smile again.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ah so this isn't my first fic but it is my first one on this particular site. Honestly, i just had some time on my hands and I've had this sitting in my docs for years now. It's not finished and if you're anything like me, that's just about as unappealing as a story can get, but I'll try to update regularly enough and if it's not to your liking feel free to come at me with flaming pitchforks :) (it's encouraged, actually.)  
> So, the funny thing is that I'm not much of a Zayn person anymore (I'm petty and my ability to hold onto bitterness is award-winning) but I loved him a whole lot at one point and Ziam was my first ship (I feel like that's unusual lol). Also, not a fan of Miss Hadid but I didn't make her a bad guy so if you're a fan, this story won't trash her, don't worry.  
> While this isn't a Larry fic, it's definitely going to be a part of this story FYI. Liam isn't in the first few chapters, but he'll be coming ;) that wasn't supposed to be dirty but I'm also not correcting it.  
> This will be unbeta'd, I'm a decent editor (kiiiind of what I'm aiming to be in life) but sorry for any mistakes ahead of time. I'm a full time student, and a grade A procrastinator so this really is a train-wreck waiting to happen, but let's try to think positive...  
> Hope you enjoy this, I mean the story as a whole. The prologue's a bit sad. My character's always end up sad, sorry bout that. Let me know what you think and leave kudos or whatever, I don't like pressuring people.  
> More tags will be added when I know of them.  
> Anyway. Onward.  
> (title taken from Lana Del Rey's "Old Money")  
> SPOILERS:  
> (If you're skipping the prologue, here are the important bits: As the woman who took advantage of Zayn is being led away by police, she says to Zayn "'On the other side of fear lies freedom,' darling." And it's revealed that Zayn now has this tattooed on his ribs. That's really the only vital info. Happy reading x.)

_ “You’re so pretty,” she murmured. A chilling hand stroked his cheek, leaving a tremor chased by goosebumps down his spine as she tisked lightly. The once delicate hand was now roughly gripping his chin to force brown eyes to ones like ice. “I hope you know that’s all you’ll ever be to anyone. Pretty.” The edge to her voice remained calm and patronizing, sounding sickeningly like cooing. “And it won’t last. It never does. One day, you’ll lose this,” she waved a hand around his face before laying it down on him, down where someone like her should never be. Her fingers fluttered across his groin. “You’ll be nobody.” A grin tipped at her lips. “You’ll be just like me.” _

_ Zayn liked to pretend that this part never happened, that when she leant forward and pressed her wretched lips to his, it wasn’t her and it wasn’t him and that he wasn’t feeling it but watching it. His initial reaction was to flinch back, to shove at her hands, the ones grasping his chin and rubbing his crotch. _

_ Her immediate retaliation was to strike him across the face, slapping a hand over his mouth before anyone could hear his cry. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” Zayn trembled until he felt numb, sans that spot on his cheek that burned like a hot coal. “You know I’ll win. I always do.” _

_ Zayn’s clenched eyes broke open to meet hers. Her eyes were empty, cold. Dead. _

_ This had been the last of the series of nightmare-like events. Days turned into weeks turned into three months of this… whatever it was. _

_ She said not to tell. _

_ He said he was scared. _

_ She said that she’s taking care of him. _

_ Zayn sorely doubted they understood that word in the same way. _

_ She kissed him, and she crowded his space and she took and took and took. _

_ And he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He wanted to scream, but his airway was blocked--blocked by whispered words of deceit and evil. He wanted to run, but she was everywhere, touching everythingeverythingeverything and why didn’t she just listen? _

Please _ rang through the air, trembling lips and sore eyes and a cold nose were a disconnect. Nothing felt real except-- _

_ Except that, that burning, violating-- _

Please _, and he knew this time that it was definitely him because teeth not his own bit down on his lips and shushed him in a less than gentle way. It was normally around this point when he wasn’t allowed to know, when the memory was taken for him. It wasn’t a blissful thing--the lack of recollection. It was all the more terrifying, knowing that a simple, forced swallow was all it took to lose that last bit of control he had and he was to her mercy. He wasn’t under , there was no unnatural toxin running through his bloodstream._ _  
_ _He’s not sure who tipped off the authorities, to this day he isn’t sure if it was the sympathetic neighbours, or the mailman that knocked repetitively for a signature on a package or the dog-walker, a young woman just trying to make some spare cash in between Uni who always took the route down his street. He didn’t know if it was anyone of his own family._

_ All he remembers are strong hands and shoving elbows against his demon and various restraints, a blanket thrown over his shoulders in an attempt to quiet the relentless shaking, he assumed. Desperately, he’d wanted to say it wasn’t the cold it was her, it was her. He was still silent. He remembers the tears of his lovely mother, the quiet eyes of his father, the rage that was directed just beyond him, to the door he’d just been carried out of. He remembers tilting his chin to look behind, to see what Baba saw. Everything was slow, like it was running through pale honey, struggling to move one limb at a time. He remembers his sisters crying his name and the social worker quietly telling him he doesn’t need to look, he doesn’t need to be afraid. And he couldn’t explain, thank God, no one asked him to, but he just… he needed to know. _

_ To know if she felt the weight of these moments of hell she put him through, if she realized her downfall. _

_ But all he saw was that upturn of a smirk, those lifeless eyes. The men in uniform began to lead her out, two in front, two on either side to hold each of her crooked arms, wrists bound behind her. He remembers that even after everything that had transpired, she still looked beautiful in that horrible way she always did, still looked lethal even with the impending future of solitude. Feet firmly planted him and his companion, somehow unable to divert his gaze. _

_ He remembers, as the men walked closer and closer to the car with the still blinking lights, her eyes never left his. He remembers the way she halted her movements for just half a second, long enough to whisper words that won’t ever leave him be, no matter the amount of drinks or packs of rolled nicotine or hours spent hiding from everything he knew. _

_ He watched her lips move, her eyes wide but pinched at the corner, the wink she delivered before being shoved forward. He remembers like it was yesterday, because sometimes it feels like it was. His breath had hitched and his tears resurfaced and his quaking fingers clenched the frayed edges of the blanket. _

_ “‘On the other side of fear lies freedom,’ darling,” she’d snarled, taunted. _

These nine words redefined his entire life, seventeen years of living led him to this. If he were trying for amusement, he’d scoff about what a joke it’d become, but if he were trying for honesty, he’d admit how very right she was.

And even now, enough money to support himself and his family, enough experience to outweigh any passing stranger, more than enough to be happy about, he knew he couldn’t get passed that miniscule moment. Those words haunted every waking moment, scanned through the clouds of his dreams, the star of his nightmares.

Those words burned across his ribs, inked in delicate, insisting writing. He’d heard the quote before, said as an encouragement, a lovely promise. There was nothing nice about it now. Sarcastic, maybe. But not lovely.

Instead of moving on, he became known by that forgotten time of when “ _ Zain Malik, 17, rescued from sex offender. _ ” without the public realizing exactly what they supported. That treacherous year turned into a blip on their radar, no one remembered. No one but Zayn.


	2. Cashmere, Cologne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In walks Mr. Sassy Pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love my lil Louis  
> Oh and i'd like to add that I know nothing about the modeling world and I'll be real, I have no interest in making this 100% accurate. Just roll with it, I'll mention as little as possible about the technical, professional side of it all.

“Zayn!” 

“Zayn, over here, mate!”

“What’s goin’ on wi’ you and Gigi? Have you really proposed?”

_ Keep your eyes down _ , he could almost still feel Paul’s hand on his bicep, leading him through the crowd of vultures--scum, they are. Though he’d only really needed him for initial training in the beginning, his ghost still followed Zayn after every walk, every appearance at another show. Tonight was the latter.

“Zayn!” Someone had the audacity to reach forward, gripping his elbow.

“Back off,  _ mate _ ! What do you think this is? Get a proper job, you dicks!”

Zayn chuckled, nudging his shoulder against Louis’ after said best friend landed his own elbow into the offending pap’s camera hand, laughing as the camera clattered to the ground.

The two boys reached the open SUV door with little incident; after all, Louis can never refrain from a well-placed, derogatory remark. Zayn slid across the seats, leaning against the window opposite of the cameras’ flashes, Louis sliding along beside him, opting for the middle seat after swinging the door shut, rubbing against Zayn’s finely pressed suit jacket, smudging his makeup on yet another of Zayn’s outrageously expensive articles of clothing. It was a favorite game of his, ‘see how many suits Zayn has to dry clean before he loses his cool.’ Because Zayn is, as Louis likes to put it, “Infuriatingly Patient.” And that just will not do for Louis Tomlinson… apparently.

“Lou,” Zayn murmured with a half amused curl to his lip. He reached over with his left hand to tug at a strand of Louis’ soft, but heavily hair-sprayed, fringe. “Babe. C’mon, what d’ya need?”

“Your love,” Zayn scoffed. “You’re never ending attention.”

“You have it, love,” He cupped Louis’ jaw gently, turning into his space to press a kiss to his lightly colored lips. Louis let out a small, shuddery breath.

“Z…,” Louis shifted so he could better access the silken sugar that was Zayn’s kiss. Never ones to wear safety belts, the two leant into each other, first Louis pushing forward more firmly, pressing them against the window, then their positions reversing, Zayn settling between Louis’ legs as they sprawled out across the bench. Zayn trailed his lips down the other’s jaw to behind his ear, the center of his throat, biting down where he knew made his counterpart weak.

Louis let out a shaky groan, fisting his hand in the base of Zayn’s hair. Just as the darker boy began to trail his fingers under the sheer gossamer opening of his friend’s button down, Louis braced himself against the back of the seat, patting Zayn on his shoulder urgently. “Wait, Z, Babe. Harry’ll kill me if he found out. We can’t--”  
Zayn reeled up, looking into the pure caribbean sea that made up Louis’ eyes. “What?”

“Ah, I’m sorry, you know I love you, just--”

“No, Lou. That’s great, I, I’m just a little shocked I guess. Didn’t think you’d actually get up the bollocks.”

“ _ Excuse me _ ,” Louis shoved against Zayn’s chest, getting them both back into a seated position. The flush of his cheeks was the only remaining evidence of their previous state. “Would you like to try that again?” It was said as more of a command than anything.

“Lou, I only meant that I hadn’t foreseen the two of you actually… happening.  _ But _ ,” he held up a finger at the almost-interruption. “I’m incredibly glad for you. If not a little disheartened because, well, you  _ were _ my plans for the night.”

“Ever the gentleman.” Louis shot back shrewdly. Adjusting his top, he primly crossed one leg over the other. His demeanor not quite as solid as it normally is when feigning his holier-than-thou facade.

“Is there anything else going on up here then?” He tapped the sulking boy’s forehead. “If you’re really worried about it, I’ll personally talk to ‘im. Say it was my fault, I ‘led you into temptation.’” The phrase didn’t even earn a smirk from the other. “I mean, if he really felt strongly about you, he’d forgive you, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s more…,” Louis sighed, pressing his lips together and rolling them inwards. He twiddled his fingers, before chancing a glance upward, revealing the vulnerability, a rarity with him, to Zayn. “It’s more of the fact that I don’t, I mean,” he sighed again. “You know I’ve never done this, a real relationship, before. It’s- it’s pretty terrifying. But he’s,” Louis shook his head to himself, gazing somewhere Zayn couldn’t go, somewhere that lit up the caribbean so beautifully, it was like an eternal sunset. “He told me he couldn’t do casual, but when he’d said it… it was like the thought of him being anybody else’s was wrong. I don’t think I could be  _ casual _ with him at all. I’m not sure how to do this, though. You know as well as I do, my sex life, my ‘relationships,’ if they can be called that, have always been mindless hookups.”

“I thought you said I was special,” Zayn simpered.

“You get what I’m saying, twit. I just don’t want to muck up something that hasn’t even really begun. He’s too good for that.”

Zayn’s heart ached at that, wondering if this boy that had his very best friend up in knots knew how highly he was thought of, the pedestal he was put upon. He wished he could know what that felt like.

He laid a comforting hand on Louis’ shoulder, “You won’t,” he promised. “You never muck up things you care about.” He pressed a lingering kiss to the stress vein in Louis’ temple, receiving a small kiss on the cheek in return.  _ Thank you _ , it said.

***

Life’s a joke.

One big, fat, completely void of humor joke.

The kind that someone tells a whole room full of people and doesn’t even get a nervous chuckle in return.

“This is a fucking joke,” Zayn stated flatly to the table of people in front of him. He very seldom wore any front other than calm, cool and collected. But this? It’s never ending.

“Zayn,” Karen, the head of his management settled a look that was nothing less than patronising. “She’s a friend isn’t she? All you need to do is have lunch, be seen. That’s all.”

“What happened to running things by me first?”

“Darling, we are.”

“No, you’re telling me what I’m going to do, there’s a difference.”

“Okay then. You’re meeting Gigi at Zephano’s, having a meal, maybe holding each other’s hands, and then taking a short walk. The whole thing can be over in an hour. You don’t even have to look like you fancy each other. I’m sorry if that makes you unhappy, I’ll be sure to ‘run it by you’ beforehand next time.”

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? That there’ll always be a next time, no question.

Resigned, Zayn grumbled, “Will there be a ride?”  
“I’ll provide you with a driver.” She levelled him with another look. “That’s it for today, everyone’s dismissed.”

_ Except… _

“Except Zayn.” Once everyone else had filed out, Karen came over to where Zayn sat, hands in his lap, avoiding her dull hazel eyes. “I know you hate this part. I told you from the beginning it had to be done.”

“Why? Because the thought of me with a man would really affect how people view the company so negatively? I’m a model,” he spat. “What kind of image am I really in danger of ruining.”

She sighed. Even if the scams this management pulled were less than savory, she never did anything to spite him. “It’s not about that, Zayn, we’ve had this argument countless times.”  
“I’m not arguing,” he denied quietly.

She smiled, a strand of auburn hair covering part of her face as she leant against the table. “You’re arguing with me about not arguing with me.” She grasped his shoulder. “It’s publicity. Two beautiful people from separate labels being seen together… it catches interest. Her team talks with us, we set it up to help you guys, not hurt you. I know it isn’t easy--”  
“Do you, though? You’re not in my position.”

“And, love, I wouldn’t want to be.” She smiled ruefully at him. “Lunch, smile, walk, home. The new season of Rupaul’s Drag Race is on Netflix, have that to look forward to.”

“You think so little of me,” Zayn attempted to hide his amusement. Reality shows were shite, but Rupaul was like no other.

“I think the world of you. It means something that they wanted you out of countless others. Gigi’s been getting loads of attention as it is, they think highly of you, as well. Take pride in that.” She squeezed his shoulder before dropping her hand and walking to the door. Pausing, she turned her body slightly, eyeing him again. “And Zayn? You stumble across somebody who holds your attention for more than a night, just say the word. I’m not here to get in the way of your happiness. Just doing my job.”

He nodded glumly at her, opting to sink down in his chair for a few moments longer before collecting himself enough to amble out the door and to the parking garage where Pat was waiting. 

_ Life is a joke, _ he thought to himself as he slid into the passenger seat, buckling his safety belt, lest the incessant beeping that alerts his law-breaking ways commences.  _ But, _ “‘Life is as kind as you let it be,’” He murmured, crossing his arms after tucking the safety belt under his armpit and looking out the window.

“Who said that one?” Drawled Pat in his gruff voice.

“Bukowski,” Zayn replied evenly, watching the streets of London rush by in a dizzying pattern of grey, grey and grey.

“Smart man,” He mused.

“Or stupidly optimistic. The best person can still have a miserable life.”

“But they’d find the good in it, wouldn’t they?” Pat was one of the few who talked cryptics with Zayn. It was unnerving in the best way.

Zayn nodded his acceptance of this answer, falling into the commonplace silence that seemed to be his default.

Pat was a stand-up guy. Best replacement for Paul Zayn could’ve asked for. He’s been with Zayn since he was just turned nineteen, fresh out of his training period with Paul and getting the hang of having people tell him what to wear and how to pose and what it means to be in the spotlight. He likes to call himself a bodyguard, but everyone, Zayn, begrudgingly, included, knows he’s essentially a glorified babysitter.

“What was the damage today?” Pat glanced to his left to raise a questioning brow before returning his gaze to the road ahead.

“Naughty,” Zayn attempted a bit of humor; these sorts of topics were truly no one’s business but Zayn’s own outside of the conference room, but Pat had been a loyal confidant since day one. “Ehm, y’know. Nothing that couldn’t have been expected. Just have to play pretend once again. Same scam, different day and all that,” Zayn exhaled quietly, closing his eyes to clear his muddled mind. Life just gets a bit too much more days than not, lately.

“Do I have the privilege of chaperoning this one?” Pat sent a smirk to Zayn, never one to allow the air to remain anything but light.

“I would appreciate that,” Zayn offered up a gentle smile.

“I’ll talk with Boss Lady,” he assured, pulling up to the gate that shielded Zayn’s home from unsavory, unwanted guests.

***

Steam billowed from the open shower door, the walls of the bathroom holding even more to envelop Zayn into a warmth that he wasn’t quite ready to let dissipate. He stepped onto the tile, quickly skimming over his body with a towel before bringing it to his hair and finally dropping it to the floor. Stepping up to the mirror, he ran a hand across the glass, just eye-level.

He felt the most raw like this. Clean and pink from the heat, eyes wide and glassy; they always looked as if he’d somehow reverted back to a child in the half an hour it takes for him to thoroughly shower. He savours these moments where he can be someone that tugs at the pit of his stomach, the very back of his heart. A feeling that brings words like ‘longing’ and ‘nostalgia’ to the forefront of his mind. It was someone that he was sure he missed dearly with some part of his being.

Just running his hand a bit lower against the glass, revealing his sharp jaw and artfully trimmed facial hair reminded him that that person is long gone, almost unrecognizable to himself, even after all these years. He is considered a man now. This life is nothing any boy could handle, the world would have eaten that child alive. Nearly did.

Pulling a pair of tight black briefs over his legs, Zayn set for his bedroom’s window, resting against the edge of the daybed set there. Just one knee, then both, before settling for good, pulling the soft throw blanket that lives there over himself. Sometimes slow is better. To be gentle on the mind, not too much at once, in order to calm the hectic buzz that can latch on. He often feels the need to be slowly reintroduced with this city, especially on days like this. With heavy rainfall and wind blown trees surrounding the world outside. Such strong personality, Zayn knows it just wants to be understood, but is unsure of how to express these things; he knows the feeling.

A distant ringing sounded from somewhere in the house, the trill not registering for the few moments it took before the trance between brown eyes and the weeping Heavens was thin enough to break. Begrudgingly, Zayn stood, wrapped in the blue-grey blanket, padding along his heated floors and down the stairs to retrieve his mobile from where he’d carelessly tossed it to the small table in his foyer. “Malik,” he mumbled into the receiver, shrugging the material wrapped around his shoulders a bit higher, sighing in contentment with the feeling of softness against his cheeks.

“Z, hey,” an American accented woman greeted.

“Geeg, what’s up?” He tried not to let any sourness invade his tone, his contempt doesn’t lie with her.

“I just wanted to make sure you were cool with, you know, everything?” A statement should not be a question. As if this conversation wasn’t already the opposite of enticing. Zayn decided to take it easy on her, however. She clearly felt some level of guilt or sympathy or  _ something _ over this situation. She knew how weary Zayn had been growing of this arrangement.

“Totally cool.” Two words Zayn would normally never use as a complete thought. Today was a minimal word kind of day.

“Tell you what, I’ll bring Henley, does that help at all?” She sounded so hopeful, he couldn’t bear to disappoint.

“That would be lovely,” he found himself truly meaning this, even allowing a small upturn of a corner of his mouth. The dusty coloured pug really was a ray of sunshine in this bleak slice of England. “How long are you in the UK for?”

“Around a month, have a couple shoots here to do. I also wanted to just… experience it for once, too. I never got a real feel for the area. Always business never pleasure.”

“Not much pleasurable about it, sweetheart. Good luck, all the same. Maybe you’ll see something that I can’t,”

She chuckled. “Maybe.” There was a pause. One of those uncomfortable ones where Zayn knew someone had to say something and that it was not him. “Z,” Gigi began. “I know you’ve not been my biggest fan as of late,-”

“Gi-,”

“No, stop. I know, okay?” She let out a breath, Zayn could almost feel it from where he stood, despite the distance, the impossibility of such a thing. Oh, the trouble of feeling so little, yet so much all at once. “We weren’t close enough in the beginning for this to be natural, but I really like you. You know I do, you’re so… so  _ you _ ,” she laughed gently, Zayn exhaling a sharp breath through his nose, tucking himself into the corner of his L-shaped sofa. His toes looked lonely sticking out from beneath his blanket, but Zayn couldn’t bring himself to tuck them in. “I’ll admit, I pushed for this when my team said there needed to be a new stunt. I immediately thought of you, and, yes, maybe I hadn’t caught on and was still a little swoony,” at this, Zayn fluttered his lashes, his lips showing a bit of teeth with his traitor of a crooked smile. It was quickly tamed back down. “But even so, I’m glad it’s you. And I’m sure you’re overjoyed to be graced with my presence yet again.” Her voice took on a playful tone. Zayn just couldn’t reciprocate, though he welcomed the effort.

“I’ll stick to it for you,” he replied quietly. As much as he despised the social hierarchy that was this profession, he had developed a soft spot for Gigi over the past year, he only wished they could’ve met under different circumstances. “But only if I get to hold Henley’s lead.” His monotone humor still managed to coax a laugh.

“You got it stud,” she said softly.

They said their goodbyes, Zayn allowing his phone to slip to his shag rug. With the swipe of his foot, he pushed it beneath the sofa, Maybe, if he hides it, it will suddenly stop being an integral part of his every day. One could only hope.

***

“And tilt your chin for me, bit more… there it is, you wonderful creature,” Hunter, one of Zayn’s usual photographers, smiled at the monitor showing the last few snaps they’d captured. “Wonderful,” he repeated. “Let’s do another set on the ground, then we’ll go for the costume change.” An assistant scuttled over, artfully arranging the sheer black blouse over Zayn’s stomach, lifting one of the nearly unbuttoned halves to just above his navel, slipping the shoulder of the opposite side down. With fingers nit-picking through his fringe and the crown of his hair, Zayn heard the telltale signs of a certain small, vibrant scrap of a man. “Oh, who let him in,” Hunter shout-whispered conspiratorially. Every single person who came in contact with Louis fell for his ways, endlessly endearing, never to a fault. Absolutely infuriating, that. Zayn couldn’t blame them. He was no better.

Louis let out one of his obnoxious cackles, how he made even something like that seem charming will always be too big a mystery for Zayn to decipher. “Hunter, baby. You miss me?” He circled the photography setup, pulling the photographer into an embrace, smacking a kiss to the side of his head. Zayn glanced with only his eyes, a warmth running through his heart at the sight of his dearest mate. “Zayn, looking dashing as always.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zayn returned. Louis must’ve come from a shoot. They tended to work out of the same building for backdrop types. His hair was sprayed into a lovely swirl, a bit of kohl around his eyes, and he was in nothing but a thin, cotton robe. Perfume, maybe. People liked to utilize his bum, said bum enjoyed the attention.

“You flatter me, darling,” he rasped. “So what have we here,” he crossed his arms, peering at the screen with Hunter.

“Fall line,” Hunter answered. Clicking through a few shots before he kicked a skinny cord out of his way, crouching at the end of the white cloth Zayn was lounging on. “Alright run your hand up, let’s do a crotch grab, classic MJ.” Hunter smirked to himself.

“What’re you doing here, man?” Zayn asked, disregarding the fact he’s meant to be still. “Got a bit of separation anxiety already, eh?”

“You know me, can’t go a day without seeing your pretty face.” By his tone, Zayn could tell he was batting those gorgeous lashes of his. “H wants to get the gang together at his this week. He’d like for you to come, if you can.”

“ I ‘aven’t got a gang,” he said unnecessarily.

“Alright, smartarse, me and Harry’s gang,” Louis sent a small smile, his feline eyes narrowed, the blue all the more smoldering from the dark liner. “And you don’t have an option,” Zayn thought as much. “You’re coming because I want you there and I need you two to get to know each other because you’re the most important men in my life now.”

“Woo-wee, he made quite the honest man outta you, didn’t he?” Zayn taunted. He was happy for him, Louis knew.

“Zayn.”

“I’ll come, of course I will.”

“You truly are the best. Anyway, I left in the middle of a shoot, should probably head back,” He strolled to the refreshment table, seemingly unbothered with the knowledge of all the people waiting for his return. He waved a bottle of sparkling water. “I’ll see you, brother.”

“Bye, babes.” Zayn resumed feeling himself up for the camera. 

“So you two…,” Hunter trailed off.

“It seems I need to find a new orifice.”

“Good God, man, have you no  _ shame _ ,” Hunter was grinning despite his feigned disgust. “He’s a good kid, that Lou. So is his Harry. Met him the other week. Dear me, those lips.” His Australian accent thickened to a growl, ever one for theatrics, he’d been hanging out with Louis too much.

“Yes, he’s beautiful,” Zayn mused.

“Good lad too,” came the tentative addition. “Seems to make Lou happy.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“You’re not cut up about it are you? I know you two were, uh, rather close.”

Zayn smiled a bit ruefully. “Yes, close.” He furrowed his brow a bit, knew the effect it’d have in photo. “He’s all ‘ve had for so long now, guess I’m not entirely sure how to share.” Even though he’d intended it as more of a joke, the truth in it was all too present.

“You’ll learn,” Hunter assured. “You love him, and you’ll learn to love what or who he loves. Things haven’t changed between you two. Never will,” Hunter smiled softly behind his lense. “Wish I had that strong a bond with someone, it’s kind of hard to comprehend, you two. You’re a peculiar pair.”

“We just met at the right time,” Zayn said quietly. Assuming silence for the remainder of the time.

***

_ Five years prior. _

_ “Bum a smoke?” A voice said to the left. Unamused, Zayn looked over, exhaling a drag into the space between him and the newly arrived, chestnut haired boy. He was small, lithe. He was pretty. _

_ Zayn held his hand out, the end of his cigarette letting out a wisp of smoke. He watched as the boy took it in his smaller hand, pulling long before exhaling it out softly, a bit escaping through his nose. “‘M Louis,” he said. “You here for the auditions, too?” He looked forward at the brick wall opposite them in the alleyway. When he didn’t receive an answer, he looked over at Zayn who had continued to study him. _

_ Zayn nodded gently, rolling his lips into his mouth before looking down at his now tangled fingers resting between his raised knees. The ground was filthy, various wrappers and spat out pieces of gum littered the pavement. His bum was cold, but there seemed to be more comfort out here in the damp air then inside with the scrutinizing stares of people who were to decide whether his face was pleasant enough to stare at. He jumped slightly at the pressure he felt along his side, Louis taking another drag before resting his temple against his shoulder. _

_ “Ever feel like, even though you’re so young, you’ve got nothing left? Like there isn’t a chance for you? This feels like a last resort, man. If I don’t get this…,”he trailed off, rubbing his pink tinged nose and offering Zayn back the fag. _

_ There was a lull, the atmosphere pleasantly quiet par the traffic. _

_ “‘M Zayn.” His voice felt scratchy with disuse. _

_ Louis lifted his head to look at him with gentle eyes. There were deep circles of blue underneath, accentuating much bluer irises. He had the barest touch of crinkles beside his eyes caused by his smile. “I hope we both make it,” Louis said. “We should stick together.” _

_ *** _

And they did. They both made it, and they stuck together. Never left each other’s sides for the last five years. That morning, when Zayn went into the interview with some shotty headshots and his nicest pair of jeans--which were, to say, not very nice--he was so worried of being laughed out of the building. Meeting Louis made the thought seem more okay. Something good had already come out of the day. And then, of course, they, along with a few other kids their age, were told simultaneously that, after deliberation, they would both be signed on, respective labels could pursue them, for the time being, they’d work on etiquette. For some reason, they’d ended up in each other’s arms. A few words shared in a twenty-minute time span and it was like they already knew each other so well. Whence they’d left the room, they stayed in the hallway for ages, heads tucked into each other’s necks, exhilarated laughter from Louis and soft, disbelieving sounds from Zayn. It didn’t matter that there was only a twenty percent chance that they’d individually stay in the business past the obligatory first two years the contract they’d signed entailed. They’d made it this far.

_ “This is real, this is real,” _ Louis kept saying, his eyes shimmering and his lips stretched thin.

All Zayn could manage were constant nods, so in shock that something seemed to be going right for once.

And now, five years later Louis and Zayn were quickly becoming Gucci’s most well-known models to date, producing spreads with other side projects left and right, even had the chance to work as a team often throughout the years. They really had made it.

He wouldn’t have made the twenty percent without Louis.


	3. We Were Young and Pretty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you guys i would suck at updating :)

_ Four years and some months before. _

_ The first time Zayn walked down a catwalk, he was freshly nineteen and wearing a pair of fire engine red, four inch heels. He’d had a thick pair of wool socks on to create a cushion and was wobbling like a newly-born giraffe. Taya, his mentor, had held the shoes in front of him the minute he walked through the doors of the studio that day, her instructions were simply, “Own the stage.” _

_ Now, as exciting as it sounded, it was pretty damn difficult, painful and all around mortifying. He never thought walking in a straight line would be such a clumsy mess, but he was here and willing to give it his best. _

_ His best landed him on his bum halfway down the length of the stage. The answering echo of a laugh  from one self-titled best friend didn’t help matters either. Zayn huffed where he still sat, crossing his arms. “We’re not even tall enough for runways.” _

_ “Eh, petite models,” Taya had a gleam in her eye. “Look, everyone in our company needs to learn every role there is to play in this industry. It looks great in resumes, and, while few and far between, exceptions can be made. Who knows, someone might get a glimpse of those beautiful eyes of yours and insist on putting you on the runway.” She stood up from her perch on a single chair where an audience would normally be--something Zayn couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Now, the problem is that your shoulders aren’t held far enough back and when you step, you’re over correcting your foot’s angle which is tangling your legs.” She took a few steps for an example before reaching her hands down to pull him back up. “Take a breath, you can do it.” _

_ Zayn closed his eyes. He woke up feeling good. Anxious, but eager. He put on his favorite knit jumper that fell passed his hands and hung off one shoulder and cut-off shorts he rolled above the knee. As a joke, Louis slipped one dangling earring in place of his usual stud, but Zayn had liked the way it felt when it tapped against his jaw and decided to keep it. He looked good, he felt almost-good, the only thing stopping him was himself. All at once, he could feel a small veil of confidence drape over him, the little whoop from Louis somewhere off in the background giving him the extra little boost he needed to finally,  _ finally _ walk like it wasn’t his first time in heels. _

_ Well, it was a good effort at least. His bum didn’t get re-introduced with the ground and his ankle didn’t bend in a way it wasn’t meant to. When he reached the end, he did a little half twirl, looked over his shoulder at the non-existent crowd with a flourish and waltzed back to Taya. His chin was held a little higher than it had ever been before. It was freeing. _

_ “Zayn,” she began, arms crossed loosely and hip popped to the side. She was biting back a smirk. “That, and only that, is what I want to see from here on out, understand?” She finally grinned, tugging him to her gently so as not to disrupt his precarious balance. With an arm slung around his shoulder, she held out the other for Louis, who slipped under it quickly. He was a natural in the heels, it truly wasn’t fair. “Okay, boys. We’ve got ourselves a mock show this coming weekend… think you can clean your acts up by then?” _

_ Zayn hid a giddy emotion he sort of recognized as excitement into the shoulder not pressed into Taya, feeling a small hand squeeze the arm he’d tentatively wrapped around the woman’s waist. He peeked over to Louis, who was biting his lip, eyes shiny and fringe shivering with his little bounces. _

_ *** _

_ “ZAYN CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!” Louis was draped over Zayn’s back as the dark haired boy stuck a key into the door of their temporary, quaint, but cozy flat. It was something they were given within the program, they still paid a small amount of rent, but between the two of them with their new source of income, they were making it work. It was for convenience sake, Zayn had figured, given it was just a few blocks from work. It was only until the two year contract was finished. Then it’d be passed down to the next bushy-tailed individuals. They’d been moved in for a couple months and while it was sparsely decorated and a bit cold at times, it felt more like home than anywhere had felt in ages. Of course, that could have more to do with the koala-boy still wrapped around Zayn’s torso as he shuffled passed the threshold. _

_ “Yes, babes, it’s gonna be fantastic.” Zayn liked to come off as unenthused because it was endlessly endearing to see Louis make up for it by being over the top with excitement. _

_ Louis slid to the ground slowly, his heels digging into Zayn’s hip bones briefly before settling on the floor. He rounded Zayn until they were stood face to face, wrapping his arms around his waist and bouncing, trying to share his overwhelming energy. “ZAYN! We’re like the Olsen twins except more iconic!” _

_ “Pretty sure that’s not accurate,” Zayn couldn’t keep his smile at bay any longer. _

_ “And you did so good today,” he added softly. “I’m proud of you. I know you were nervous about this bit.” _

_ Zayn swallowed. “Thank you,” he cleared his throat. “You looked like you’d been wearing stilettos your whole life.” _

_ “What can I say? Four sisters, one Louis.” _

_ “Little Louis,” Zayn mumbled, pinching the hem of Louis’ shirt, rubbing it between his fingers. Louis’d bought himself the top as a gift when they’d gotten their first paycheck, it was so soft and read ‘not heartbroken.’ Zayn wondered what that was like. _

_ “You better watch your mouth pal.” Louis nudged his nose to Zayn’s. Zayn knew his eyes were closed even though all he could do was stare at Louis’ sharp little teeth pointing out through his grin, they were one of Zayn’s favorite things about Louis. _

_ “Or what?” Zayn asked. He swallowed again. His throat too dry or swollen or  _ somethin g _. _

_ Louis pulled back to meet his eyes briefly, his blues seemed darker at this moment.“I might never forgive you,” he said. _

_ And this was new, too, new as their friendship, at least. The kissing. Still, when Louis leaned in to nip at his lips before gently pressing them together, it didn’t feel strange, it hadn’t since that first time--when they’d both been so overwhelmed, their first week in the business and it was all they could do to hold one another together. Louis was possibly his most important person as of October, it felt the closest thing to natural for them to be touching this way. Sometimes he thought maybe Louis needed it. Just that he could feel someone else breathe with him, get a reaction. The more they got to know each other, the more Zayn saw how desperate Louis was for some sort of validation. He knew he never felt very important, he just wanted to feel worthy. Zayn could help with that. _

_ Zayn knew what it was like to feel as if he were just existing, barely that. It was astounding, really. To think someone as magnificent as Louis felt lost in this world that very rightly should be his. He was wonderful enough. These days Zayn couldn’t manage to think up a world without this ball of sunshine. _

_ So he kissed back, he leaned closer when Louis’ hands slipped into his hair and he allowed himself to be led backwards on his sore feet until they stumbled into the room that, in all honesty, had turned into a shared bedroom. It was in mutual agreement that being together was just better. They made it here together and it would be a cold day in Hell when they didn’t need each other. _

_ The first time they’d done this, Zayn was worried he’d scare Louis off. He knew he’d have a reaction that he couldn’t help, knew that his hands would shake and his vision might blur and he’d need to stop and try his hardest to breathe. Louis had stayed, though. Going through the motions was something Zayn heard about in all ways except good, but that first night, Louis had held him through the motions and Zayn figured maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Maybe some waves needed to take control before Zayn could come back to his senses and realize that it was a whole new day, new year. He was a new person and Louis had the warmest blue eyes to ever exist. _

_ It was an interesting dynamic because while Louis was always a bit spastic, he was the sweetest like this. He knew when he needed to take charge and lead Zayn, but he was so soft, so gentle. He was his most vulnerable like this and it was only fitting since Zayn was too. He knew his eyes always went a little wide with wonder, that he had a hard time taking his eyes off Louis for even a second. He was captivating in a way Zayn hadn’t experienced ever before. Louis admitted that before Zayn, he’d never been the one giving but that he couldn’t imagine it another way with them. Neither could Zayn, truthfully. He’s not entirely sure he’d have done this with the roles reversed. There was beauty in feeling like you had nowhere to go. Sex or making love or fucking, it could be sweet. It could be beautiful. _

_ “You’re so beautiful,” Louis reminded him. It was a word he used with Zayn often. When Louis was moving in him, when they were kissing, when they were just walking home and sometimes Louis would lock their fingers to feel more connected. Sometimes Zayn even believed him. _

_ “Lou…,” he hiccuped a gasp. _

_ “Shh, it’s alright.” It could’ve been a trick of the light, but for a second, the wetness in Louis’ eyes matched his own, he bent his head down to tuck into Zayn neck before the theory could be proven. He shuddered out a breath. “‘Ve always got ya, y’know I do. Without you, I… I couldn’t--” He cut off on another breath but Zayn understood. He couldn’t either. They made each other brave. _

_ The silence was broken by gasps and the occasional moan, Louis made the prettiest sounds, Zayn felt so lucky to experience such a thing, what it’s like to be loved by Louis, even if not in the traditional way. Neither of them were cut out for that, at least not now. So young and finding themselves in a career that almost guaranteed a shallow product of what they are somewhere down the road. They were scared and stumbling, but they had each other… they had this. _

_ With a last shift they both came apart, Zayn always felt every last puff of breath leave his chest, along with the sharp bite Louis liked to leave on his collarbone, muffling a groan. It was special because they’d pet each other until they came back, and Louis wouldn’t mention it, but he’d always wipe the sparkling trails from Zayn’s cheeks, and Zayn would make sure to sweep Louis’ fringe to the side because it made him feel looked after, something he was so used to doing that he needed to feel reciprocated periodically. _

_ This was how they fit. Don’t ask, don’t tell. They learned for themselves and adapted and somehow they understood each other more than people they’d known all their lives. _

_ Zayn found it difficult sometimes, accepting that his life had taken this turn, but when he had Louis to hold him close, he figured maybe it was okay. Worth it, even. Life had beautiful moments, Louis was several of them. _

***

“Right, so maybe this time, less hip sway and more… standing up straight?” For the amount of times Louis has insisted that he’s doing his best to encourage the new recruits, he sure does a shit job of showing it.

“What he means by that is worry less about how you look for now, just get to point B with as few stumbles as possible, and then we’ll come back to finesse,” Zayn added placidly, patting Louis’ knee with a not-at-all patronising hand, raising his eyebrows at his friend before looking back at the young girl. She had a side pony-tail and one of those jumpsuits Zayn detests, but she was wearing shoes very reminiscent to when Zayn first practiced his walk and it softened him up a bit. He could tell she was frustrated, her cheeks were rosy and she kept blowing wispy hairs out of her eyes, ringing her hands each time they gave direction. “You’ve got this, love. Chin up,” he offered.

He felt quite solemn. To think he started here, probably much worse if his memories serve him correctly, makes his chest ache a bit.

The girl, Addie, bites her lip, clearly fighting off emotion, shuffling her feet as she straightens up her posture to begin again. She took a deep breath, making a few small steps before she started to stride. She faltered at the end, one ankle wobbling, threatening to bend in the wrong direction. She threw her arms out, turning back to Louis and Zayn with wide eyes. “What if I fall? When I’m doing this for real, what if I fall?”

Zayn raised a brow, “‘Oh, my darling, what if you fly?’” He felt Louis’ gaze on the side of his face. Zayn refused to look, never liked to see how loudly Louis was thinking. It shown in his eyes more and more these days, that look of “I don’t know you at all.” And never in an angry way, more softly confused. Resigned.

Addie smiled, looking to the ground until  _ finally _ she seemed to find her confidence, returning to the starting point and giving the most polished walk of the day. Louis gave an impressed clap, smiling a crinkly little smile. Zayn’s heart gave a pathetic thump every time he saw that smile; it was disorienting, the way Louis looked twenty years old again with just an upturn of lips.

“Well done, love. Now do it blindfolded.” The girl squawked once she saw that Louis was joking.

Their banter faded in his mind as Zayn studied the way they interacted. Addie was completely at ease now, Louis was great at that. Zayn hadn’t had the courage to even attempt to befriend a stranger for almost a year before Louis went up to Zayn that day five years before. The occasional thought that they could’ve gone all their lives without knowing the other is enough to leave Zayn numb. He rubbed the side of his thumb repeatedly against the denim of his trousers until the friction started to burn a bit, just to feel.

Just to feel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xx  
> 


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